55
Ain’t Nothing but
a Wing Thing
I just lay there, arms wrapped around his sides, and try to come to grips with what just happened to me. Eventually, though, Flint gets restless and starts to stand up, even though I am in no way seated appropriately.
“Wait, wait, wait!” I cry out as I try to shift myself around on a moving dragon—which, as it turns out, is even harder than it sounds. Especially when Hudson is laughing his ass off at me.
This time Flint’s snort sounds a little more like a growl.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” I tell him as I finally manage to get myself situated properly, facing forward with my legs straddling his back and my arms wrapped around his neck.
He snorts again, obviously unimpressed with my apology. “Look, I said I was sorry. Now it seems really obvious what you were doing. But at the time, it didn’t. So I’m sorry I thought…whatever it was I thought.”
Flint twists his head around just enough for me to see the disdain on his features.
“You know what? Enough is enough. You want to be annoyed with me, fine. But how was I supposed to know? I’ve never ridden a dragon before. I’ve never even been this close to a dragon before except, you know, when you were digging your talons into my back. So let’s just call it even and get on with the lesson, okay?”
No snort this time, but he does give a regal head toss that tells me my apology is sorely lacking. And also that he’s over it, which is good, because so am I.
Seconds later, Flint bucks his head back in a warning that I don’t understand and then shoots straight into the sky.
I scream again, louder this time, then wrap my hands around Flint’s throat in what could probably best be described as a death grip. If I don’t loosen up soon, it will probably end badly for both of us, but as he zooms to the very top of the castle, there’s nothing I can do about it.
So I just close my eyes, hold on, and pray I don’t fall off.
“Bugger this!” Hudson growls, and I realize he’s now sitting right behind me.
“What are you doing here?” I demand, even as a scream rises in my throat. “I thought you were comfortable on that step.”
“You do realize I’m actually in your head, right? So where you go, I go. It’s kind of a thing.”
“I know that. I just didn’t expect you to decide to ride Flint along with me. It doesn’t really seem your style.”
“As it turns out,” he answers stiffly, “I’ve never ridden a dragon before. I thought it would be…”
“Terrifying?” I ask as Flint does a vertical spin as he continues to fly higher.
“Fun.” The word comes out a little breathless, which I can totally understand. My breath is in my throat, too.
Thankfully, it turns out Flint can breathe even with my death grip, and he takes a few loops around the castle and the sky above it. It’s not exactly a flying lesson, but now that my brain is functioning again, I realize he’s just trying to relax me a little. Get me used to flying, even if it is on a dragon.
I’m positive it won’t work—it’s super scary flying around this castle that’s built on the side of a mountain—but eventually I manage to keep my eyes open for an extended period of time. And when I do, I nearly squeal in delight because, scary or not, it’s absolutely, breathtakingly beautiful up here.
The sky is crystal blue, the mountain is covered in glistening snow, and the castle looks like something out of a movie…or a dream. Its gray and black stones provide a startling contrast to the white snow, its parapets and towers stretching high into the bright blue sky.
Flint turns his long, majestic neck so he can glance back and check on me, and I hold on tight, expecting us to quickly drop back down to the ground.
But I totally underestimated Flint—big surprise—because instead of heading for the ground, he takes a tight turn in midair and heads straight up, up, up into the sky.
“Oh my God! What are you doing?” I screech, but he doesn’t so much as look back at me. Instead he just goes faster.
I expect Hudson to complain, but when I glance at him, he’s got a full-blown grin on his face. Then again, it’s not like he’s got the same fear of dying that I do…
We’re back to flying vertically now, and I bite back a scream as I hold on as tightly as I can with both my arms and my legs. Not going to lie, it’s completely terrifying. But it’s also exciting and exhilarating and the view—when I finally manage to pry my eyes open—is absolutely breathtaking.
A few years ago, I watched a documentary called The Art of Flight. It was about snowboarding in the most difficult and breathtaking locations in the world, and Denali was one of the places spotlighted in the movie. They took a helicopter up to some of the areas that are off-limits to normal climbers and skiers and made a big deal about walking in places where no other human being had ever been.
At the time, I hadn’t understood what the big deal was. But now, holding on to Flint as I get a dragon’s-eye view of those very areas, all I can think is, Of course.
Of course they wanted to see this place that so few people have ever seen.
Of course they wanted to capture it on film so others had a chance to feel what they felt.
Of course it’s worth anything—worth everything—to get here. Right here.
And suddenly, something wild inside me breaks free. It claws its way out of the deepest part of my soul, yearning toward the sky, toward the snow, toward freedom.
I gasp, because for that one second, my body wasn’t under my control. It belonged to something—to someone—else, and I don’t have a clue how to find my way back.
Of course, Flint chooses that moment to change direction, going into a deep dive that has the wind in my face and my heart in my throat. We’re racing down even faster than we came up, and as terror whips through me, whatever raised its head inside me settles back down.
I want to follow it, want to figure out if it’s the gargoyle or something else—something worse—but I can’t when every ounce of concentration I have is focused on hanging on to Flint and praying that we don’t crash.
We don’t, but because he’s Flint, he can’t resist doing a series of loop-the-loops in the middle of our dive. I’m not sure what it says about our speed that I don’t even have to worry about falling off, even when we’re upside down, because centrifugal force keeps me plastered to his back the entire time.
In fact, by the time his third set of somersaults comes around, I don’t even have to close my eyes. Instead, I just laugh with Hudson and enjoy the ride.